The Dressing Room Of Eden Gardens

The Lines of Defeat And Victory Will Blur

The game hung in balance. It took him much pain to admit that. That even now- The game hung in balance. Had it been any other team, he would have relaxed at the sight of victory. Well, the balance was mostly that of a draw and a win but it was a balance nonetheless. And there was nothing he hated more than a draw so it might as well have been a line between defeat and victory. For anything less than a win was a loss for him.

True loss though, was thankfully out of the books unless the Australians pulled out a miracle from somewhere. Sourav didn't think they could; he was an old fashioned man, if one miracle had already happened, he did not think another would. So he rested easy on that particular note staring unblinkingly at his miracle men, wondering what he had done to deserve them.

Rahul was lying on a cot, draped in wet towels, somehow managing to be fast asleep. Laxman was working through back exercises slowly, under the watchful eye of Nitin. They were both doing much better today than the conditions they had ended up in yesterday. Laxman's back was better by leaps and bounds and Rahul no longer looked like he was tiptoeing death's door. The IV line had ended up doing far more good than what had been expected.

Though ofcourse, improved condition did not equal to fit conditions as Minz bitterly kept reminding them. Rahul was still feverish and weakened, Laxman was taking pain medications every other meal with the doctors constantly monitoring his back. They were both so exhausted that waking them up for the match had taken no less than three people a person. Four in Laxman's case because man had had them convinced that he was half dead or something and a panicked Ashu had fetched Minz much to the displeasure of all, including Minz himself. He makes a mental note to send the med team a gift basket or something before the next match... just in case.

And then he adds another note to pray to god that there are no more incidents today. It was the last day of the test match. The final innings infact. Australia had a score to chase and ten wickets to defend. And they were not here to play. Not anymore. They had lost the look of a cat playing with its meal and resembled a bigger predatory pack.

But it was going to be in vain.

See Sourav wasn't good at many things, he was man enough to accept that. But he was also a man enough to know what he was good at and be really damn proud of it. It had always come naturally to him, telling when he had an edge over somebody. The Aussies had a near impenatrable face but Sourav had seen the singular crack in their facade. They were unsettled by the partnership Laxman and Rahul had conjured up. It was like snipping the chord of trapeze bars. The artists may yet land on their feet but they weren't going to escape it without injuries at the very least if not death.

So he knew he had an edge, an opening into Steve Waugh's perfect mauling machine. And he couldn't wait to somehow squeeze his fingers in and rip everything apart.

A poke to his ribs startles him away from his bloodthrist... only figuratively ofcourse.

It is Sachin, "Take a picture captain, lasts longer" he says with a grin that has far too many teeth. Not for the first time, he worries for Sachin. If it was hard being Sourav Ganguly, it was unbearable to be Sachin Tendulkar. The weight over him, the pressure that he constantly lived under; it would have to be unimaginable. And to make things worse Sachin himself expected nothing lesser than absolute perfection each time from himself. So each time they lost, he would sink into the same depths of despair and then come out, just a little more crazier than last time. And seeing the number of times they lost... there had to be mathematical equation to calculate just how crazy Sachin Tendulkar was because simple addition cannot give the answer.

Sachin's smile dims a little and he leans away the slightest, "What?" he asks confused.

Sourav just shakes his head, feeling tension bleed out of his being. He smiles and Sachin instantly leans a little more away, even more creeped out.

Before he can say anything though Sourav claps his shoulder, "Team meeting in the first room. Round up everyone will you?" he pauses and looks back, "Let Dravid and Laxman be. Everyone else,".

Sachin is still staring at him, looking more than a little lost. Sourav feels a burst of fondness in his chest and he puts his palm to the side of Sachin's head and shoves... in the only way he has learnt from his own brother to show affection. And then he walks away, a laugh playing at the back of his throat as his bestfriend stares at him with obvious concern for his sanity.

Sachin was cute. Sometimes.

He would have stayed and annoyed him about it but Australians on a dinner plate sounded much cuter. He had an assault to plan.

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